Wine A Bit
by candidshot
Summary: He invites her out for a drink, and Caroline begins to think that Klaus tastes like fine wine.


"Would you be so kind so as to invite me in, dear?", his tone is dulcet, one eyebrow arches daringly.

Caroline scoffs with a disapproving roll of her eyes, retorting, "as if", with her arms folding across her chest as she awaits the forthcoming challenge.

Strange enough, Klaus seems satisfied, smirking with a tiny smile etching at the corner of his lips. He always seems to enjoy their banter, the resistance, both fighting for control in feisty comebacks.

Or perhaps, he just likes showing just how persistent he is, ever ready to impart on Caroline, that perseverance is one of his many middle names.

"I brought us wine", he announces, as if that's enough reason to right all the wrong in the world, "it's from your birth year, 1992", beaming this most satisfying beam that Caroline can't deny is gorgeous, "have a drink with me. I assure you, your company will make it most savory".

Caroline flits her eyes to the vintage decorated display in Klaus' hand, and she wants to refuse him, have him make plea to her, but instead she scoffs once more, but this time, in feign exasperation.

Klaus is so annoyingly attractive and tempting and so darn spontaneous with his cloyingly sweet attitude and as much as it hurts, though in a sweet way, she can't refuse him, not when she's losing to the shameless fluttering of her vampire heart, cringing as she supposes Klaus can hear the rhythmless beating.

One minute she hates him enough to want to kill him, and the next, she's his perfect maiden in love, if not playing the damsel in distress.

"Fine", she replies, mulishly defeated, "I'll get the glasses", disappearing into the kitchen, returning seconds later, "let's make this quick".

Klaus smiles, pleased, "shall we?", gesturing for her to take his arm, which she does somewhat reluctantly as they make their way out to Caroline's backyard and seat themselves underneath a tree.

The moon is round and big this night. Very bright and promising, casting this glow across Klaus' face, putting twinkles in his eyes, jaw lines drawing rigid at angles with the effect of the illuminating light casting shades of shadows across his face, a persona that's gentle, lighthearted, strangely calming.

Though, Caroline will never admit this.

Regardless of how in love she is with this side of him, being swept away by his vintage charm, always finding herself lost in his knowing eyes and meaningful looks, the way he chases her with a forceful yet gentle passion, and then there's the way how his lips always look red and succulent, she can almost taste their saccharinity.

He sighs, a brazen breath of contentment, "this is one of the charms of living for over a thousand years...", he supplies, face drawn in tranquil reminisce of the past, his mind seems to be drawn into a distant memory, "the beauty of a full moon is infinite", he concludes, turning his attention, eyes glazing full over Caroline's form.

She's ravishing, he thinks.

Caroline gulps back a plethora of feelings as they start to swell at her core, sipping on wine to quench the hammering excitement twisting in her stomach, her mind far too boggled to think and question why.

"Why didn't you invite me in?", he then asks in a manner as if he wants to know the answer, but not really.

She smiles, a very secretive one.

"Because, you would be a bigger nuisance with no boundaries, always popping in and out as you want like you own my damn house".

Klaus laughs, a gentle rumble heaving all the way from his stomach, a knowing gesture pulling at his face as he fills their glasses and proposes a toast, "to us".

"Us?", she mimics, eyebrows quirking in mockery, "when did that happen?", raising her glass to sip and swallow again.

Fine wine, is hard to come by these days.

Klaus likes the challenge. It's charming. His smile has now crafted itself into an artful patient grin, "then it's high time we change that, dear. Wouldn't you agree?", eyes drifting back to the star dotted sky.

Caroline uses this occasion to smile into her glass as she drinks, liking the ageing taste of oak wood and spice swirling around in her head with every swallow, and there's the smile of secrecy again… something mischievous, dreamy even, and she's utterly unaware of Klaus' wanting stare wandering back over on her.

He's smiling, admiring the profile of her stunning beauty accentuated by the moonlight, so he decides it to be a waste of time if they were to argue, knowing better that Caroline loves the chase as he enjoys her colourfully feisty banter. Moreover, why should he insist on being invited in when he can use that excuse as his reasoning to someday once again show up and tap at her door with another bottle of exquisite wine and perhaps too, with a pretty bouquet of flowers.

And unravel her, maybe.

"Caroline", he calls, voice barely audible, and a bit hesitant, a distant sound in the cool flowing wind, but at the very moment she shifts her head to face him, her lips become warm, and her company grows even warmer when he slings his arms around her neck and gingerly hauls her closer, lips are indeed saccharine tasting, tongue tangy and spicy, the picturesque moment, inebriating.

Klaus is kissing Caroline quite sweetly.

And she loves it.

The red wine gets addictive Caroline finds, or perhaps it's just Klaus' mouth, the shape of it and how he uses the moisture from his tongue to moisten over her moving lips, reciprocating the affection. Klaus is warm, she thinks, an all-consuming heat in which she finds herself wanting to sear all the way through her, desiring more and more as her world tilts a bit off its once-upon-a-time well secured axis.

Klaus is intoxicating.

And neither can tell who's in control when at that very moment, a rush of blood pulsates through Klaus' veins and without leaving any thoughts to reason, Caroline givingly folds herself into his arms, reaching up and letting him have her, no fuss nor fight, giving him her all, hands reaching underneath his shirt, fingers caressing the appropriately toned and impossibly hot skin, harmones awakening.

She tells herself, it's the wolf in him, wild and exciting.

It's maddening.

For the both of them, Klaus' world completely turning upside down, veins tingling with longingness that makes him wonder how he has been surviving this long without this, without her, without Caroline ravishing him.

But Klaus is a gentleman, "not now, love…", he whispers against her lips before pinning a kiss to the side of her nose, then perching another against her temple, breath hot and ticklish against Caroline's right ear, "… but soon, when the time is right".

Caroline lets herself enjoy a final pull on his lips before pulling away and readjusting in her seat, raising her eyes to the silver moon, dares not look at him, backtracking to how this all began and how will it end.

How could it possibly end?

There's no turning back. Her heart is already a lovesick mess for this man.

"Just so you know", she begins, glass tilting between her lips, "that meant nothing".

Klaus chortles, a haughty mellifluous crackling, "of course, we didn't engage in artful kissing, sweetheart", he's smirking, enjoying Caroline's frown and her determined expression of needing to rebut, a bit agitated at supposedly not being able to find any peppery words, "not at all… we're just two people keeping each other's company over a glass of wine", his face now budding into a full grin, "fret not, love… just our little secret".

But Caroline is beyond worry, much more preoccupied with reeling images of Klaus' lips clinging onto hers with long dainty drags, very saccharine tasting with tongue and all mixing betwixt hers.

It's incredibly titillating.

"Shall we try the Château Latour next time?", he offers as coolly as the wind brushing against Caroline's still flush and sensitive cheeks.

"There's no next time".

There's a momentary silence nudging her to discreetly gaze over at him from the corner of her eyes, disheartening that she may have unintentionally hurt his feelings yet again. But it's his knowing smirk that greets her instead, drawing itself at the corner of his mouth in a satisfactory victory of sort, subtly teasing but at the same time daring itself to slowly work its way to the crinkles of his eyes.

"1929 was a great year for wines, Caroline", he resumes without abandonment, "superb vintage. You would have loved it", he sums up, eyes teasing with accusation.

Caroline feels her stomach lurch a bit in a sort of fancy, anxiety working her nerves so she sits quietly, draining the last drippings into her mouth, allowing herself to savour the smoothe trickling of citrus hinted with spice, perfectly blending with the stained heat and passion of Klaus still richly prevalent in her mouth.

He's salacious.

"Next time, invite me in, Sweetheart".

Caroline gives no indication of having heard him, but Klaus interprets her unusually quiet temperament as valid confirmation.

Because of course, she wouldn't concede to him just yet.

Instead, she'll let him spontaneously knock at her door again, and perhaps then, under the white moonlight, he'll have her.

No.

She'll let him.


End file.
